


If They Knew You At All

by Medie



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angels, Community: hc_bingo, Fallen Angels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a near eternity since they've walked openly with humans. Even longer since any were tempted to love one.</p><p>He knows why now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If They Knew You At All

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this angel!Reese](http://artmetica.livejournal.com/39074.html) artwork by and by the "fall from grace" prompt for HC-Bingo

When he wraps himself in their flesh, burying all that he is beneath layers of illusion, he can't hear them the same. This far up, a human couldn't hear the misery of their world. All human hearing can detect is the faint sound of traffic, the wind whipping through the buildings, it's all sanitized and beautiful in its own way.

He doesn't know if he hates or craves this distance.

Both, maybe. None. He doesn't know. 

Another human trait. Indecision. He's never known it before. Not in all the ages of his existence.

Still, he quells all that is his true nature (save the wings that disguise his presence. From below, he's just another gargoyle watching over the city) and perches atop one of their buildings.

He's up just far enough that he can't hear the sound of humanity's misery screaming to the heavens, though he leans forward as if to try. 

"You can't do it, y'know."

He almost smiles at the sound of her voice. Turns his head and catches a glimpse of her. She's standing at the railing beside him, watching him with a little smile of her own. 

"You think a flying man in a suit might draw some attention?"

She snorts. "You know what I mean." He watches her look down, wary. "Be a bad time for a wing to fail, John."

"I never fail," he says, lighter than either of them will believe. 

"We fail all the time," she says, "That's why you're up here. You always do this when a mission goes to hell." 

"All my missions go to hell," he says, easily. "I'm an an appointed warrior of God. It's a part of the job description."

She glares at him. "I could push you."

"Thou shalt not kill," he quotes, beaming openly now. 

"Thou shalt not _murder_ ," she says, smirking. "An important distinction. Besides, for the time being, you're not actually mortal." She tugs at one of his wings to remind him, then her smile fades. "You know you can't do it, John."

"You did."

"Yeah, but I didn't become human to hurt them." Joss lays her hands on the stone and looks down at the city. "I wanted to _be_ them. I wanted to know what it felt like to dance with feet that can break, bones that grow brittle, I wanted to hold my child in my arms and raise them up before my Creator. I wanted to know what I was fighting for." 

She turns her head to look him in the eye. "I might not be of the host anymore, John, but I still talk to them. I'm sorry about her." 

It's the first time someone's said those words to him. The others all feel it, but it's tempered by frustration. It's been a near eternity since they've walked openly with humans. Even longer since any were tempted to love one.

He knows why now. 

"Then you know why I have to do it." 

"No," Leaning against the stone, Joss looks at him. "Pretty sure that you don't know either."

"You'd be wrong about that," John says, looking down. "Remember how we used to complain about human ingenuity?"

She smiles. "Yes."

They complained loudly and often, much to the annoyance of the rest of the host about humanity's love of technology to the exclusion of all else. They'd both seen far too many humans talk themselves into disaster by ignoring the signs and portents all around them, too reliant on their machines to see the truth before their eyes. 

Over and over and over again until even the angels grew tired of saving them. John has never, ever understood his Creator's patience where mankind is concerned.

Even as he thinks of joining them. 

Joss nods, looking wary. "Uh huhhh..."

"There's a man with a machine. It's a very special machine." John feels his wings beat, casual and relaxed. He's going to miss them. "It knows who's going to die." He smiles. "It's not that simple, of course, or that easy, but it will save lives—and they're going to kill him for it." 

The man calling himself Finch has enemies of flesh and air alike and all of them are circling, ready to strike, and he has no idea. 

" _John_."

"I can't let it happen, Carter," he says. "I can't protect him as an angel, but as a human—"

She looks at him. He can almost hear what she's thinking. "You can go dancing?"

He steps down to stand with her. 

"Something like that."


End file.
